


The Rain-Coated Dream

by MinNim



Category: Original Work
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Cliffhangers, Demons, Doubt, Fear, One Shot, Other, Rain, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 20:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20570561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinNim/pseuds/MinNim
Summary: John's mind was still warped and terribly muddled by the accident. It still consumed his every fiber of despair. John liked to call them his daily self-pity parties. John had a routine every Tuesday. Tuesday's were his special days. They always gave him extra numbness. They gave his demons an extra stirring. Tuesday's were ALWAYS special.





	The Rain-Coated Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Tis' but a scratch, I Jess, have just come a void of dragon slaying and have come to let you glance at the ancient scrolls. The one I'm about to hand you is one filled with despair and angst, but it must be done, whenever you're ready, go ahead and read.

Two years ago…

That's how long it's been since the accident.

His therapist tell him he's fine and grief passes in everyone's own way, but does it?

It chews on him everyday, that sinking feeling of dread dropping into his stomach, by the end of the day, he was just a blob of dread, numbly walking.

The accident started out on a completely bland day, go to school, do homework, maybe have an all nighter by chugging some caffeinated drink in the early morning.

He was scribbling down some geography notes to turn in tomorrow when suddenly the door rattled open right off it hinges.

His sister smashed her hand against the door, and since the door was already weak as it was, it fell off its hinges and clattered against their apartments carpeted floor.

She was drenched from the rain, her clothes were soaked and clinging to her skin almost like a virus.

Rain was common in Louisiana, and it was always intense, the rain would always clatter on their roofs all day and night.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his eyes no longer crawling over the messy writing in his falling apart notebook.

“I’m fine, I just forgot to bring an umbrella. I’m going to head up into the shower.” She said,a smile gliding onto her face, even in her drenched state, heading up to her room to get clothes.

He heard her footsteps patter up the stairs to her room, then creep into her upstairs bathroom.

He returned to his notes, this time, placing earbuds in his ears, blocking out the noisy clatter of the rain.

A few hours had passed and He was going to head up to bed. But something was digging into his brain. His sister hadn’t come down yet.

She had come home around four p.m, and it was now ten in the night. 

He frowned and marched up the carpeted steps to her bathroom. It sounded invasive, but he couldn’t stop the fear gnawing at his stomach.

He pushed the maghony door open, and instantly noticed blood. His knees were now quivering, but he persisted and walked up to the shower’s thin curtain. 

He had a feeling deep inside of him that knew that his sister was dead, but he wanted to be sure. 

He slid the shower curtain open and stifled a gag at the scene before him.

The bath water was dyed red from the metallic liquid escaping for his sisters body. The metallic tangy smell of blood, was wafting up his nose. A gag erupted from his throat.

Her eyes looked lifeless. They were glassy, glazed over, as if they were painted to be on display.

He quickly pulled the curtain closed, and collapsed onto his knees. 

He was gasping for breath. He couldn’t breath. Sobs were bursting from his lips, as if it were his lifeline.

How could this happen. He clawed at his throat in discomfort. He wanted it to stop. He wanted the pain to stop. He JUST wanted it to stop.

That’s how his mother found him, hours later, collapsed on the bathroom floor, his face caked in dried tears, his sleeping face coated in agony.

Two years ago...and he couldn’t get the accident out of his head. It haunted his nightmares day and night, no matter what.

It was no use, they always found and craved him.

It was like he had the plague marked on his arms.

His demons were frantically persistent.

It was a Tuesday, it was therapist day.

He grabbed his navy blue bag with stripes, it was a gift from his sister, before you know...

He clambered down the stairs, he now had his dead sister’s room, and took a seat on a bar stool in the kitchen.

His mother was there, smiling at him like always, she always fucking smiled and he hated it, how could she smile after what happened, it slaughtered him, and she just stood there, smiling as if nothing were wrong in this cruel universe.

“Want some coffee?” She asked warmly, placing a pastel coffee mug in front of him, with straight up black coffee streaming inside.

“Sure.” He stated coldly, his baggy hoodie sleeve slightly falling off his shoulder, as he wrapped the warm mug in his cold hands.

“What do you want for breakfast?” She asked, already formulating what he was going to say.

“Hashbrowns and a bagel sandwich with cream cheese, bacon, and a fried egg.” He gave a minimal smile, taking a sip of his golden nectar known as coffee.

His mother and him just stood there in silence. Comfortable silence, the only thing filling the air was the smell of greasy bacon, and the sizzling of the egg.

She gently placed the plate full of crispy hashbrowns, and a stacked bagel sandwich in front of him

“Let me know when you’re done, so we can leave.” She smiled purely, walking out of the room to get ready herself.

He gave a nod of appreciation and dug into his food. The hash browns cracked inside his mouth, and he swallowed.

He was just glad he didn't have to see her smiles and giggles anymore.

He swallowed his last bite of food, and climbed up the steps to his mothers room. 

He gently knocked against the door, and mumbled ‘yes’ was heard from the other side.

“I’m ready.” He stated, the numbness was already starting to spread from the outside of his heart.

“Ok, let's go!” His mother smiled, swinging the door open in front of him.

They walked down to the garage and squeezed into their small 2000 Jeep. 

The car was filled with white noise, the radio was off, no one was conversing, it was almost like a silent scream was echoing at them to move, to feel something...but they didn’t listen.

His mom pulled up at the small beige building that was his therapists office.

“I’ll see you later?” She smiled warmly, not an ounce of pity seeping into that warm smile.

“Sure.” He stated, swinging his blue backpack over his shoulder, and pulling the car door open.

His sneakers squeaked, as he walked into the cushy office.

The receptionist gave him a toothy grin, “Welcome back Jonathan, she’s waiting for you already, you can head to the back.”

He nodded grimly, tugging on his backpack, his arms were starting to feel numb.

He placed his cold hand on the knob, it was just another Tuesday.

He twisted the knob and pulled the door open, his discomfort already starting to eat away at him.

He took a seat on a plush couch in the room, as his therapist glanced up in his direction

“Hey John, how have you been feeling?” She smiled, hidden concern smirking at the tips.

“Decent.” He drawled, crossing his legs on the couch. He didn’t want to be here, but it was a Tuesday. This was how Tuesday’s went.

“That’s great, how have your nightmares been?” She asked, her words slipping out of her like silk.

“Fine, they happen.” He stated shortly, he didn’t like here.

“How drove you here, John?” She asked, her words beginning to turn sour in his mouth.

“My mom, I-I’m sorry, why?” He stuttered, his composure beginning to fail him.

“So, where’s your father?” She asked, her words dropping the sweet honey, and picking up a sour vat of tar.

“My father.” He swallowed, his head was throbbing and he didn’t know why.

She nodded, urging him on, trying to coax the truth out of him.

“I don’t know. He left or something?” His last words releasing into the air like a whisper.

“Do you remember what happened that night? I’m going to be honest with you, you need to stop repressing your feelings, you still don’t know what happened?” She pouted, she thought she had made progress, but her hopes were dashed today.

“I do...I do...do I?” He asked, his eyes filled with heart-wrenching concern. Why was the throbbing in his head getting worse?

“Your father killed your sister. He’s in prison. He isn’t coming back.” She whispered, her words like a death wish stamped to his forehead.

His brain shattered, as if it were smashed by a hammer right against it.

He remembered now. It all made sense. HE remembered hours of having his headphones on, even after doing homework, just watching videos and voices droning into his ears because he was high on fatigue and adrenaline.

He remembered how he didn’t notice his father come through the door and stab his sister in the cold bath fifteen times each in different places, making the blood ooze everywhere.

He couldn’t breath. He buried his face into his knees, tears stinging his vision. He wanted to bury the pain, himself. He wanted to die. He wanted to burn the stupid blue backpack that cursed him everyday.

That’s how his mother found him, when she came to pick him up, high on fatigue and adrenaline, and wanting to die.

He vaguely remembered stumbling into his car, and crying the entire way home.

He vaguely remembered stumbling into his room, locking the door behind him, his ears roaring with quiet screams, his mother pounding on the door.

It was Tuesday. It was Tuesday, March 24. The Two year anniversary of his sister’s death.

It was just another ordinary tuesday. Now, March 24 marked the days of his sister’s death and his suicide.

He thought he could join his sister in the blissful afterlife, but turns out, he only ended up meeting his frantically persistent demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is nigh, and it is very tragic. Thanks for readings, and I hope you all had a fun read!
> 
> Do not RE-Upload!  
Lot's of Love,  
-Jess

**Author's Note:**

> You made it, noble hero, congratulations, I know it was tough journey filled with tragedy and sorrow, but this story will always remain in our hearts and soul. I hope you had a fun read glancing at the ancient scrolls, but I must valley forth and continue writing more scrolls, thanks for reading!
> 
> Lots of Love,  
-Jess


End file.
